


however much i run away

by strgzr



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, i almost put angst w a happy ending but who really knows at this point, not me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28917576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strgzr/pseuds/strgzr
Summary: “kirby doesn’t cry.well, she does. rarely.but she wants to right now.”or, kirby and fallon are... kirby and fallon.
Relationships: Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington, Kirby Anders/Original Female Character(s), Steven Carrington/Sam "Sammy Jo" Jones
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. the silence.

**Author's Note:**

> here goes a notoriously short chapter of a fic i will notoriously probably not finish
> 
> title is translated from the song fai rumore because i’ve been on a eurovision kick i guess

kirby doesn’t cry.

well, she does. _rarely_.

she cried when she stubbed her toe against a marble column hard enough to sprain it when she was nine.

she cried on the plane ride back to australia when she couldn’t manage to find a position comfortable enough to pass out for at least part of the 24-hour journey.

she cried moments before finally, _finally_ revealing the decades long crush she’d had on fallon.

then she cried in the moments after.

but now, laying next to fallon, holding her as her breathing falls even while she drifts off to sleep almost makes her want to. 

lifetimes ago (it feels like lifetimes), they shared their beds with each other. kirby had the smaller room (obviously) but she had the better one for taking heavily filtered photo booth pictures, for staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars, moon, and planet stickers that littered her ceiling and talking about the future, and for desperately hoping they’d be able to do this forever. fallon’s room was massive — almost _too_ big, kirby often thought — so it was perfect for building sprawling, unbreachable forts, for hiding amidst the plush comforter and 16 pillows during horror movies, and for falling for someone without really noticing. 

homework help, movie marathons, late night giggle fits, early morning chatter before school, nightmare protection, dream discussions…

sometimes, kirby thinks about those nights.

those nights, they were each other’s respite. 

she could never have imagined her childhood crush coming to a head, coming to mean something. she returned from australia with only one goal, and it’s been fulfilled somehow, some way.

she wants to cry from sheer happiness.

fallon is her sheer happiness.

“what?” fallon’s voice cuts through the darkness of the night. “you’re staring at me.”

kirby snorts. she’s been mindlessly running her fingers over fallon’s back for the past twenty minutes. it’s one of her favorite things to do and she does it every night, like clockwork. “i can’t look at my girlfriend now?” her time is incredulous but she’s smiling and fallon knows it.

“you _can_ , but normal people look during daylight hours. only psychopaths look at their sleeping girlfriends at 2am.” 

“ _bull_ shit. plus, you’re staring back.”

“oh, i never said i wasn’t a psychopath. you jumped to that conclusion.” fallon wiggles in closer to kirby, curling into her chest a bit more. 

“you know, i liked it better when you were being quiet.”

“if you tell me why you’re staring i’ll go back to being quiet.” fallon stifles a yawn after she speaks, then sighs.

“because i love you.” it’s easy for kirby. it flows. it rolls off her tongue. she loves fallon. she _loves_ fallon.

the brunette is quiet after that. the room falls silent once more.

kirby doesn’t cry.

well, she does. _rarely_.

but she wants to right now.


	2. the break up.

“why can’t you ever just _tell me_ how you feel?” kirby’s voice almost, _almost_ breaks, but it doesn’t.

it’s been months since kirby dropped the L bomb.

it wasn’t really a bomb to her, though; to kirby, their relationship had been cemented for a long, long time. her love for fallon is intentional, overflowing, _overwhelming._ loving fallon is easy. it’s natural, like breathing and laughing. it’s like looking up at the sky and shutting her eyes in the wake of the sun hitting her skin and warming her from the outside in.

for fallon, their relationship had been exhilarating. her love for kirby is boundless, but it’s all so _delicate_. this is fragile. to fallon, their relationship, their love, _kirby_ is precious. she’s lost countless loves before, which was fine. none of them were kirby, so it was fine.

how do you tell someone you love them when you know that they know? how could fallon say a word she’d gone so long without hearing from anyone but her brother? how could she say a word like _love_ when that word meant running back and forth between blake and alexis in the height of their fighting, their hatred, trying to prove that she was worthy of it?

she knows that kirby can see it in her actions. fallon’s love is in the way that a brand new macbook pops up on kirby’s side of the bed, boxed and all, after her generations old ipad finally bites the dust. it’s in the specially curated vacations fallon plans, meticulous and detailed and ensuring that kirby gets the maximum amount of time surfing, since she doesn’t get to do her favorite activity much in atlanta. fallon’s love shows up in waves, tangled up in their bed, in her laughing through every kiss over every inch of skin kirby feels like offering.

why should she need to use a word her still broken soul only associates with hurt and fear and loneliness?

maybe that’s all that fallon’s love can be.

“because you get like _this_. you get angry and upset and _emotional_ when i tell you anything. why can’t you just… be an adult?” fallon spits back. her words are laced with venom, always, and kirby knows that but they still rip through her like a harpoon would a piece of paper.

“you know, i thought things would be different this time.” kirby swallows past the lump in her throat, pushes through the full body heat that flicked on like a furnace. “i thought — with everything finally out in the open — _you_ would be different.”

fallon’s mouth falls open just a bit as her own cheeks redden. “you’re acting like a child, kirby.”

she lets out a disbelieving, _frustrated_ laugh, her head thrown back in an attempt to gather her thoughts. “why do you refuse to just be honest for once in your goddamn life, fallon? just one _fucking_ time, i’m begging you… _please_. be honest with me. do you love me?”

“kirby—”

“do you… _love_ me?” her jaw is set, teeth clamped together as tightly as possible to brace herself for the answer.

fallon turns away from her girlfriend. her arm moves and even though kirby can’t see it she knows she’s wiping a tear from her cheek. “fallon…”

“it’s not that simple.”

it feels like the air gets sucked out of the room all at once. kirby steadies herself on the doorframe, fearing she might just pass out from uninhibited disappointment. “but it is.” her voice is soft, barely above a whisper but it’s all she can manage. “i love you. do you love me?”

“ _grow up_ , kirby.”

something in the woman snaps like a too tight guitar string. she finds her strength once again and straightens up. “you always do this, you know.” her voice, still soft, is stronger now. assertive. she moves to stand in front of her girlfriend and brings gentle hands to her cheeks. she’s never given her a kiss as soft and as full of love as she does before she speaks again. “you have a good thing and you get scared so you push it away… you push _me_ away. ever since we were kids. d’you remember that?”

fallon doesn’t look at her. kirby knows she can’t. “don’t-”

“i’m not doing this anymore, fallon. i won’t. i deserve better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m notoriously bad at purple prose. also, sorry.


	3. the aftermath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fallon wonders what else she loses in the break-up.

fallon carrington does not get broken up with.

fallon carrington _does_ the breaking up. she does not get broken up with.

but she did.

kirby walked out three weeks, two days, and four hours ago. and fallon hasn’t seen her since.

well, not _really_.

but they spent every waking moment together when they were… together, so it’s not really her fault that she knows kirby’s schedule.

it’s not her fault that she just _happens_ to be in her car outside of the starbucks around the corner from kirby’s favorite bar when she knows kirby’s finishing her morning run and grabbing her coffee. it’s also not her fault that she rolls her eyes when she sees the item in her gi— her _ex_ -girlfriend’s hand as she exits the storefront. it’s not her fault that fallon knows the (reusable, of course) cup holds a venti soy latte with three pumps of vanilla and two of caramel and it’s god fucking _awful_ but it’s so very kirby. 

she also _happens_ to be picking up her own dry cleaning for the first time in maybe a decade on the same days she knows kirby likes to do her laundry at the adjacent laundromat (it’s also not her fault kirby’s the one who taught her how to do laundry, and she fucked up separating her first time doing it alone so she’s been trying to dry clean a once-white, now-pink saint laurent blazer back to its former glory). she can’t help it. 

it’s _her_ routine, too.

she’s sitting in the foyer at the manor, waiting impatiently for some files from her father when she decides to catch up on kirby’s instagram. _she looks happy at least_ , she thinks. that thought is nice for only a second before she realizes what the face splitting smiles in the photos imply. 

she should stop.

it’s what she thinks, what she knows is the best for all currently involved. her finger keeps tapping through, though. different social media apps are suddenly opened on her screen when she reaches the last of the _new_ kirby’s feed (denoted by a very clear aesthetic difference. very kirby.) she’s on twitter now, snapchat even, a stupid old facebook account that she knows kirby only uses to keep old and distant relatives up on the happenings in her life. 

the burning emptiness in fallon’s chest feels too good to stop scrolling.

“what are you doing?” sam startles her enough that she jumps out of her seat and drops her phone on the ground, where it lands face-up with an unceremonious _thwap_ . kirby’s bright red hair and glittering smile is displayed on the screen, a photo cross posted to twitter from her instagram. “oh… my god, are you _insta-stalking?_ ”

she’s trained her body so that an embarrassed blush no longer shows up on her face (the tips of her ears, though, are instantly red). “no!” she squeezes her eyes shut when she hears her voice crack so as to avoid the accusatory look sam is definitely giving her. she opens one, then the other, confirming a shit-eating, “i know what you did last summer” look on her brother-in-law’s face. “sam… _stop._ whatever you’re about to say or do or _tweet_? stop.”

he snorts, then places her phone back in her hand. “you know, you could apologize. then you wouldn’t have to stalk her instagram or her errands.”

“i don’t—” she gives up on an excuse when he shoots her a knowing look. what does she have to apologize for? ...okay, rephrase that — _why_ should she apologize to someone who neither wants an apology nor would change her mind because of one? 

“so i miss her. sue me.”

“i shouldn’t tell you this but you’re my sister-in-law, so i’m inclined to keep you happy so that _you_ can tell your brother i did so _he_ — fingers crossed — will come home and make _me_ happy.”

“gross.” she’ll do anything at this point, but showing even a hint of desperation, of neediness to someone like sam couldn’t possibly end well for her. he’s just standing there, _smug_ , knowing what he knows and keeping it from her, keeping a step towards happiness from her. there’s no possible way being vulnerable with sammy jo gets her anything but a prolonged period of unending shame.

she gets impatient with his lack of disclosure very quickly, though. her arms cross over her chest and she leans her weight into her back leg, tapping a glossy, tan louboutin against the tiled floor.

“well? speak.”

her eyes follow his hand as he places it on her shoilder in slow motion, a look of sheer disdain etched on her face. “her band is part of a showcase at hades saturday night. if i bring you, it won’t be as weird as you finding out and showing up on your own... probably.”

god, does her heart flutter? pathetic. 

she makes a mental note to withhold sex as punishment for kirby having that sort of effect on her with weeks absent of any form of contact between the two women. “i shouldn’t.”

“no, you absolutely should not… but you’re miserable _and_ you’re creeping on her anyway. what have you got to lose?”

_my dignity_. she brings a hand up to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. she runs through a pros and cons list in her head (her favorite coping mechanism) and has to ignore the long, glaring list of cons that pop up (her least favorite outcome). instead, she looks at sam again. “ugh, fine, just… you’re not allowed to leave my side when we’re there. if i need an out, you have to fake sick.”

“you won’t need an out. you just need to apologize. maybe tell her the truth.”

“what _truth_ are you inferring, sam?” her steely gaze narrows onto him, like a hawk honing in on a mouse. 

sam hits her back with a mirthless laugh, then a shrug. “she’s one of my best friends, you know. she tells me everything.”

“oh.” her piercing glare falters and she looks away from him to cross her arms over her chest. “fine. saturday.”

how _dare_ she disclose their personal, _intimate_ matters with someone like sammy jo? of course, if monica were in the country fallon would have already given her the run down of the night’s events twice: once over mimosas and brunch in town and again over cocktails and caviar in monica’s penthouse. but she doesn’t have monica, so how _dare_ kirby have sam?

fallon wonders what else she loses in the break-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don’t believe in beta readers; you get what you get and you don’t get upset, as my elementary school lunch lady used to say.


	4. the flashback.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahead of the showcase, fallon reminisces.

“i didn’t know you played… what is this?” fallon runs her manicured fingers gently over the seams of the soft case leaning against the wall of the living room. of _course_ she knows what it is (she’s rich, not dumb) but she loves hearing kirby talk about her passions so much she’s willing to play up the coy.

kirby looks over to where fallon is standing over her case. “it’s a bass.” she’s met only with a slightly less inquisitive look. “a bass _guitar_?”

“ _ohhhh._ are you any good?” fallon moves to open up the case, her nails trailing over the tightened strings on the glossy wooden neck. there’s tape wherever tape could possibly be—repair tape, demarcating tape, tape that she knows kirby only put on the damn thing because it looked cool. “or is this like a quarter-life crisis kind of thing?”

“shut— i’ve been playing for a long time, now. i just don’t have anyone to play with.”

“let’s start a band then.”

kirby snorts, but her smile fades when she notices fallon’s sincere look. “have you ever been in a band? do you even play an instrument?”

“ _no_ , and piano, remember? i would be the manager anyway. i’m way too good for the drama of being _in_ a band.”

“babe… you’re serious?” kirby blinks at her girlfriend who’s gone from cautiously handling her guitar to pulling the leather strap over her neck and standing in the mirror. “what’s in it for you?”

“why do i have to have some ulterior motive? can’t i just help my wonderful, talented girlfriend do something she loves?” kirby isn’t buying it and the smirk on her face says so. it breaks fallon very easily, she finds. her eyes roll. having someone _know_ you this well can be… annoying.

“fine, maybe i think you would look _really_ good playing it.”

she gets to her feet, sauntering over to the other girl and wrapping her hand around the neck of the guitar just above where fallon’s is. “maybe?” she can tell fallon’s breath catches when she takes another step forward, closer still. “you think i’d look hot on stage?”

“don’t—” fallon’s eyes flick up to kirby’s mouth, her smug smile almost contagious. “if i say yes, will you stop teasing me?”

“never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, this flashback is extremely short. sue me.


	5. the show.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fallon is in for a surprise on the night of the showcase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m a steven carrington stan first. sorry. also, it’s a Longer chapter. love to see it.

steven looks over at the door just as fallon walks into the half dark bar, so he waves her over with a megawatt smile. “i thought you weren’t coming until 11!”

“i moved some things around,” fallon shrugs coolly. she points at the lone pint remaining on the table for approval from the two men to drink it, then takes a long drink. she looks up at the stage as the next group takes their positions. “did i miss her?” they both shake their heads in response.

to call what the group currently on stage is doing music would be a disservice to any toddler with a xylophone, she thinks. she waves down a waitress for a mid-beer second beer, just to ensure there wouldn’t be a gap in her inebriation. she needs all the liquid courage (liquid stupidity, her mother calls it) she can get, after all. 

“at least we know kirby’s band’ll win this,” sam’s voice is hushed as he leans over to speak into steven’s ear. “everyone else sucks.”

“not everything is a competition, you know,” he retorts. “i mean, this literally is, but not everything.” 

fallon rolls her eyes and takes a big sip of her beer to prepare for the next cacophony to call themselves a band to take the stage. steven’s right, though — kirby and her band are so far above all these other talentless weirdos. even if she couldn’t play the bass or carry a tune, she at the very least _looks_ the part of “hot bassist”.

the drummer for the upcoming band catches fallon’s eye in the crowd and trips over a cord and into the set with a resounding clatter. she’s honestly surprised he even managed to make it far enough across the stage to make a fool of himself. she shakes it off with another swig of her drink and a shrug, while steven and sam do their best — to no avail — to stifle laughter.

when sam goes off to get another round for their table, steven turns to fallon, a knowing look on his face. “are you doing alright?”

“i’m _fine_ , steven.”

“ _are_ you? because you’re here.”

fallon’s faux self-assured look falters and she sighs. “i haven’t… _we_ haven’t talked in weeks.”

“oh.”

“but i’m being supportive. i’m showing her that i can be supportive. that i _am_ supportive.”

“right, because you guys broke up over support.” he turns away to take his drink from sam’s hand before she can respond. she scoffs as a retort, once again annoyed that kirby has inched her way into and _poisoned_ every relationship she has; it’s because she told sam that her beloved brother now knows every intimate detail of their falling out, and has somehow sided with kirby over it all. 

kirby’s non-physical presence in her life that she could at one time compare to the afternoon sun creeping in through the windows, touching every inch of any space she was in, has become a poison.

at least, that’s what it feels like.

fallon knows he’s right; showing up to her show means nothing, ultimately. it’s just the first step in a convoluted plan to win kirby back for good. “god, this is awful,” steven tuts as the band on stage starts up post-drumset catastrophe. “do we know when she goes on?”

“ummm.” sam scrolls through his phone, presumably checking his texts. “they’re next!” a simultaneous sigh of relief from the carrington siblings makes the three of them laugh, and before they know it a flash of plaid and red hair struts across the stage.

fallon knows the outfit kirby’s wearing. she can remember the day she convinced her… _ex_ that a plaid miniskirt would totally be a fashion move for her and _no_ , it’s not just because kirby has incredible legs that fallon caught herself daydreaming of on more than one occasion.

sam and steven provide thunderous, disruptive applause which makes everyone in their immediate vicinity look over at them, but fallon… can’t stop looking at kirby.

she’s not holding the bass fallon gifted her for her birthday. 

this one is… different. _new_. her mouth falls open just a bit, her throat suddenly dry, but she snaps out of it when steven brings a hand to her shoulder. “you okay?”

“yeah, i-” she clears her throat before downing the rest of her drink. “yes. i’m fine.” he stares at her just a moment longer, then turns his attention back to the stage.

it’s like the music just flows through her, fallon thinks. she’s never seen kirby so free, so herself. the guitar is just an extension of her and fallon almost feels unworthy of witnessing what’s going on onstage. her voice is so velvety, like listening to the sound of silk flowing in the breeze. honestly, fallon never even realized the depth of the talent her girlfriend—her _ex_ — held. the whole crowd is into it almost instantly, and she can tell kirby is exactly where she needs to be.

she just can’t figure out where the _goddamn_ guitar is from.

“you were right,” sam grins, dancing along to the music, “they’re the best band for sure.” and they are; it’s a unanimous decision from the judges that awards kirby’s band some prize money and a year-long weekly spot at hades. fallon almost rushes the stage to congratulate her ex, but she freezes where she stands instead.

“did you know?” steven’s eyes widen as he addresses his husband in a hushed tone. “i didn’t know.”

“i didn’t!” the other man hisses, hands shooting up in an immediate defensive stance. he glances at fallon, then back to steven. equally hushed he replies, “clearly she didn’t either.”

what _(who,_ rather) fallon _clearly_ couldn’t have known now has her arm wrapped around kirby’s waist and is grinning up at the redhead, offering some indistinct words of praise or congratulations or _whatever_ right into kirby’s ear that fallon can’t make out because she’s now too far removed from kirby — physically, emotionally, every possible way-ly — to be up there next to her. “hey.” sam’s snapping his fingers in her face when she directs her attention to him. “i’m sorry. we didn’t know—”

she clears her throat and pushes her hair back over her shoulders. “it’s fine. i’m fine. you should go talk to her.”

he turns on his heel, presumably to talk to kirby but she’s already making her way over to them, mystery girl still draped over her like a shawl. steven and sam hurry to meet them in the middle, giving fallon just a bit of extra cover.

“i’m _so_ glad you guys made it!” her cheeks are still red—a combination of makeup, the heat of the stage lights, and the adrenaline of performing—but she’s grinning. “did we sound okay? how was i?”

clearly she hasn’t noticed fallon, so the brunette thinks she can maybe escape; she could just slip out behind her brother and sam and kirby would never know. 

“you were _amazing_ ,” sam moves in to hug kirby. “like, seriously, _so_ good. it’s crazy that you guys aren’t famous yet.” 

“that’s what i said!” the mystery girl pipes up, fallon can hear her from nearby. she’s shorter than kirby (duh) but has a distinct accent.

a distinctly australian accent.

sam chuckles quietly as he turns his direction to the mystery girl. “sorry, we haven’t met yet. i’m sam, this is my husband, steven.” a hand juts out in her general direction. “you are?”

instead of taking his hand, she turns to kirby with an amused but incredulous look. “you didn’t tell your friends i was coming to visit? that _hurts_ , bee.”

“i was… preoccupied! sam, steven, this is leona — leo! she’s my best friend in the entire world and she took a 24-hour flight from australia to be here tonight-”

”you forgot to mention that _i’m_ the one who got you into the bass in the first place, and that _this_ pretty little guitar was handmade by yours truly. but i’m not bragging,” leona laughs.

“right.” kirby’s grinning and — christ, _blushing_ — “so, you have to be nice to her!”

“i’m _always_ nice. even when i find out i’m just the replacement best friend.” sam tuts at his friend, then offers his hand to _leona_ once again. “how’re you liking atlanta so far?”

“‘s’alright. i’ve only just arrived, really. we should all go out sometime! you all can show me what i’m missing back home.” she turns to kirby, smiling. “besides you, i mean.”

sam glances back at their table, then whispers something into steven’s ear.

“uh… you doing alright?” steven appears seemingly out of nowhere next to fallon, who’s taken it upon herself to stay out of sight of her ex. 

obviously, she’s just _peachy_.

never better.

couldn’t be happier if she tried.

obviously.

instead of speaking, she cuts her eyes at her brother and scowls. “come on,” he sighs, “it can’t be that-”

she doesn’t give him a chance to finish before she’s downing her mostly full pint of beer. she slams the glass down — almost hard enough to crack the handle off, and actually hard enough that she breaks a nail.

“-bad.” steven’s eyes go from her to the glass and back up again, then he sighs. “so i guess getting to know leo is out of the question.”

fallon lets out a humorless guffaw, both endeared and appalled by her brother’s naïveté. “oh, i know her; i’ve _talked_ to her. i just didn’t think i was in competition with her. but that’s my fault for believing in love or _whatever_.”


End file.
